My Mind, My Mood, My delicately poisoned pen…

And I can let him
go… even though he saved me and then he put me in a closet, pressed in a book out of view like a dead flower and pulled me out every once in a while, wiping off the dust, smiling and then returning me to the closeness of yellowing pages in the darkness where I could be safe and he promised that I’d never lose him.
And I can let him go…
He had his reasons for lying and it doesn’t mean he didn’t love me, I tell myself, when I find somebody new-
who turns around and saves me but then puts me on a pedestal in a glass case, surrounded by other polished trophies and let’s anyone who wants to walk past for the sole purpose of feeling a little jealousy about what he waxes in order to feel better about himself and he promised he’d never love another.
And I…

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